As a poet, writer, diplomat, and a survivor of trauma, I have found strength in the stories of those who stood tall in the face of injustice. Among those giants, one man’s legacy echoes most deeply in my heart — Steve Bantu Biko. His life, words, and fearless spirit continue to shape how I view freedom, identity, and the purpose of my own voice.

I look up to Steve Biko because he understood the power of the mind — that true liberation begins not with weapons, but with consciousness. His philosophy of Black Consciousness taught us to reclaim our identity, to be proud of our skin, our language, and our heritage. At a time when the world was telling Black people they were nothing, Biko reminded us that we are everything. As someone who has battled the chains of anxiety, depression, and post-traumatic stress, I know the importance of mental freedom. Biko’s message was not just political — it was deeply personal.

He was not afraid to speak truth to power, even when it cost him everything. That courage — to rise even when it is easier to stay silent — is what I try to channel in my own work. My poetry, books, and advocacy are born from the same fire: to confront injustice, to give a voice to the broken, and to remind the wounded that healing is possible. Biko died for the truth. I live to honour it.

Steve Biko stood for the voiceless. He believed that Black people must not wait to be liberated — they must liberate themselves. As someone who works with orphans, vulnerable children, and victims of gender-based violence, I see every day how powerful it is when someone begins to believe in their own worth. Biko planted that seed — the idea that dignity cannot be handed to you, you must claim it.

His life reminds me that writing is not just art — it is protest. It is healing. It is power. Just like Biko used his pen to shake the system, I use mine to challenge, to comfort, and to ignite hope. In a world where fear tries to silence us, I remember Biko’s words: “The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed.” And so I write, so the oppressed may remember they were never powerless.

Steve Biko may be gone, but he lives in those of us who still believe in justice, in truth, and in the beauty of Black resilience. I look up to him not just as a martyr of a movement, but as a mentor of the spirit — a man who taught us that being Black is not a curse, but a calling. I am proud to answer that call.

— Mosimanegape Leeuw